Flocking Movement: One of The Terrible Things
by Xazz
Summary: Atlantis has risen. But maybe it isn't as bad as it seems when Desmond returns. Its different now though, he's different. The future will come to pass and it will depend on his anger, and his mercy.
1. Epigraph

"Terrible things happen to good people every day.

Consequentially, I am not one of the good people.

I am one of the terrible things."

-Marianna Paige


	2. Change of Course

So I'm back a bit earlier than expected for the _last_ installment of Flocking Movement. When I get obsessed with a thing I _really_ get obsessed with a thing. Won't be so focus fire on this story like I was for Triad though, I want to keep up with some of my other stories still (or attempt... an attempt is being made okay, I promise)

But yeah. Welcome back to Flocking Movement, I'm super excited, I hope you are too. Time to finally get some questions answered. If only Ubisoft would do that.

* * *

The heat was intense. Even an ice age couldn't stop the Sahara from being hot as shit in the middle of the summer, or dry as a bone. The hot air created great dust storms on the plains land that stopped everything in its tracks for miles, even the animals and proeathan ships grounding themselves to get out of the dust. For a few months of the year, nothing grew, and even the plantations didn't bother to try and force life from the parched land.

But the air was clear today, the sky a magnificent shade of blue. A lone figure walked across the plains to a shallow lake, which as swollen still from the spring rains and winter thaw. They were covered head to toe, not even their eyes exposed, but their height and swift gait betrayed them as a man. They wore a large pack on their back but it didn't seem to slow him down for he walked quickly towards the shallow lake, startling wading birds there, a leopard who was lying in the shade of one of the trees that lined the edge of the lake eyed him with a sleepy gaze.

Upon arriving at the lake the man removed one of his gloves and crouched, dipping his hand into the shallow murk. His hand was covered in glyphs that glowed a gentle teal color where it touched the water. "Little pig, little pig, let me in," the figure said, teasingly.

"I believe," a female voice, round and matronly, said,, "that the rest of it goes 'not by the hair on my chinny chin chin'."

The man chucked, "And the rest?" he asked.

"Or I'll huff and I'll puff," a deep, echoey, man's voice said, "and I'll blow your house in."

The man grinned behind the head scarf covering his face, but not showing even in his eyes as they were covered by protective, mirrored, goggles. "Yeah, something like that. Now open up Demeter, it's hot out here and I don't have all day." Then the man stood up and put his glove back on as the lake opened. Birds went flying and the leopard got to their feet in interest.

A pathway formed in the shallow lake water, raising up through the muck and silt to come right below the water. The man walked across the shallow bridge to the open hole and to see him from afar it would have liked like he was walking on water. At the top of the hole that led down into the earth there was a disk protruding from the side, the man stepped onto it. "Should they be informed?" the matron asked.

"Nah, let them be surprised," the man scoffed as the disk started to descend. As it did the lake closed up over him.

"Well they're in a bit of a state," she said.

"They can afford to be in a bit of a state. They'll live."

There was a pause, "That was a terrible joke," said a new voice, a young woman, robust and yet annoyed with him.

He chuckled, "Not like you're the best company, and the others _so_ don't get my humor," he sighed.

"They try," the girl said.

He said nothing and the elevator continued down and down and down into the darkness and then it abruptly changed directions and started moving horizontally. The man didn't seem to care and just waited patiently.

"Hello," Demeter's voice was lovely as she greeted the man as the elevator stopped at a large, cavernous, room with a tall pillar in the center. The pillar had round holes in it and there were fifteen of them, though one had already been filled. "Over here," the AI appeared before the man and beckoned him towards the pillar.

"So after this I'm done with this, right?" the man asked.

"With this part," Pluto said, walking next to the man.

"Of course," the man sighed. "What's the others' ETA?' he asked as he got in front of the pillar and unslung the pack. Metal thunked against itself and the ground.

"Hey! Be careful with that," Mercury's shrill, childish, voice said, though he sounded very concerned as well.

"They should be here later tonight," Demeter said.

"Good," the man said, "So where's this go?" he asked picking out a large, spherical, device from the pack. Demeter directed him to which hole went to which sphere. He had five in total, each fitting neatly into the holes.

"So you know, they're coming," Pluto said at one point.

"Of course they are," the man said.

"You really should have just done it the other way," Pluto said sternly.

"I wanted to get this done first and I won't be able to move even until I get done with them and who _knows_ when that'll be. So, work first, play second."

Pluto eyed him a moment, then he smiled slightly, "I think they'll have a nice surprise."

The man left the pillar and headed for the exit as directed, getting onto another lift and being taken away. When the lift came to a halt he was greeted by a bunch of people with guns. He raised his hands. "I'm not proeathan," he said.

"Stand down," someone said behind them and the gunmen lowered their weapons and parted at who'd spoken. "Who are you?" Ezio asked, "What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

"Wow, you're seriously off your game old man," the man said. Ezio's brow furrowed in confusion. Ezio had cut his hair since the last time they'd met, and shaved off his winter facial hair.

"_Excuse me_?" he asked.

The man lifted his goggled up to show his eyes, "Recognize me now?" he asked and Ezio's face went totally slack and his eyes widened, his mouth opening a bit, looking completely stunned.

"D-Desmond?" he asked.

"Hey," Desmond said, grinning.

"Sir?" one of the gunmen asked, "Who is that?"

"Where have you been!" Ezio yelled and Desmond laughed, a great, robust, fully body laugh when Ezio suddenly grabbed him up and hugged him, lifting him off the ground an inch or two.

"Missed you too," and he hugged Ezio back, smacking his back a few times.

"Sir?" someone asked, the soldiers looked so bewildered, and not a little freaked out.

"Its all right everyone," Ezio said, turning towards them, waving them all. "False alarm. Good response time though, everyone did very well. Return your gear and get back to what you were doing."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes I'm sure, go on," and he shooed them. After a moment the soldiers did leave, but looked over their shoulders warily after that. "Where the _hell_ have you been kid? And what are you wearing?"

"Its easier this way," Desmond said, his goggles still on the top of his head. "Who were they?" he asked.

"Minutemen, Hawk's idea, in case anything happened."

"Ah."

"Now you come with me, everyone's gonna wanna see you."

"And ask like five thousand questions," Desmond sighed.

"Well, you have been gone almost six months," Ezio said, looking at him with a knife slash mouth. "Lots of questions need to be answered, and you should just answer them once and not five times."

"Sounds good to me," Desmond said, "Though I'm really looking forward to a shower and a soft bed."

Ezio chuckled, "I'm sure," he said.

Ezio led him through Demeter, clearly knowing his way around. Some people gave them a look but didn't say anything. They'd know if they needed to. "And I have some questions too," Desmond said, seeing all the people, the soldiers from before, the clear army his ancestors has trained.

"Of course," Ezio said and they came to a door which irised open. It looked like a war room and clearly everyone of importance was there. Altair, his hair cut down to a fine buzz; Hawk, who's hair had only gotten longer and he wore in a braid over his shoulder; Jake who looked the same, same dumb haircut, same dumb look on his face; and Clay who Desmond hadn't seen in years and had shaved it all off like Altair. Shaun was also in there, he still looked too old, and there was _more_ white in his ginger hair. Last was someone his eyes went to first and his heart swelled. Lucy. She'd cut her hair and Desmond thought she looked even more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her.

"Is this the intruder?" Altair asked, standing up from his place at a table where they seemed to be monitoring the situation.

"Yes," Ezio said, sounding amused.

"Though one thing, not an intruder," Desmond said.

"You infiltrated our base, I think that counts," Altair said, narrow eyed.

Desmond looked at Ezio, "Was he always this touchy?" he asked. Ezio snorted.

Altair paused, taking in what he was looking at, "What?" he asked.

"_Man_," Desmond sighed, "Alive for a few centuries, still stupid, all of you," Desmond said.

"Excuse me?"

Desmond looked at Ezio, "I think he's rubbing off on you Ezio," he said and they reached up to the wraps he had wound around his head and face he'd done to keep the sand and dirt and off his face and the dry wind from chapping his skin. "Or maybe you're rubbing off on them since I don't remember you all being so stupid," and he started to take off the wraps. He revealed his hair first, hair he needed to cut soon, it was too long for his liking, and then his forehead where the glyphs started. They'd progressed onto his neck and face a few months ago and now covered his entire body from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his skull and the palms of his hands.

He enjoyed the surprise on all their faces as he continued to take off the wrap, unwinding it from across his nose and the sides of his head and then his mouth and chin. "Still think I'm an intruder?" Desmond asked once he'd finished uncovering his head and face. Everyone was staring at him. "What? Something on my face?" he asked, though that was a bit of a trick question since he had about six glyphs on his face, one that even crossed the line of symmetry on his nose.

Jake was the first one to not look stupid and figure out how to use his voice, "Shut up, Desmond," and that made him laugh.


	3. The Flock

Everyone literally started talking at once, bombarding Desmond with questions, demands. All wanting answers, all wanting to know what had happened, where he'd been. Desmond felt them ping off him like radar and he let them come. For a minute at least before raising his hands, "Okay, quiet," and he didn't even have to raise his voice, everyone just sort of petered out. "I can't hear everyone at once. One question at a time, okay?"

"Okay," Altair said, and he wasn't the only one nodding.

"Jake, you first."

"What the fuck man?"

"That was a statement, not a question, moving on," Desmond said, "Hawk, you next."

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" he asked.

Desmond didn't answer right away, "Everywhere," he said, "I went up to the western coast of Canada, then to eastern Asia across the ice bridge that connects Alaska and Russia. I went through Asia, across Europe, and eventually made my way here. Took me a while. I walked a lot of it, or found things to drive. Altair, you get the next one," he said.

"What happened to your face?" and Altair sounded so sincerely worried about it.

Desmond just shrugged, "Not really sure honestly," he idly scratched his cheek, the glyphs on his face weren't just light now. Raising Atlantis had scarred them into his flesh, so even when they didn't glow they were raised up from the rest of his skin. "Cosmetic skin alterations. Not quite sure what it is. And its all over, not just my face. Ezio, next." He was glad they were all being so orderly.

"What were you doing in Demeter's Core?"

"Putting the others in there. I stopped by the other AI bases," he grabbed a chair and finally sat down with a sigh, that felt good. "Carried Mercury and Artemis all across Asia with me, and lemmie tell you, Mercury; fucking asshole."

"Fuck you Desmond," Mercury suddenly chimed in.

"Shut up, kid," he said. "Clay, you can go next."

"Where's Atlantis?" Clay had been staring at him the entire time. "Why did you raise Atlantis?"

"Because I needed to," Desmond said, and before he'd been relaxed, now he went hard. "And its in the middle of the Sargasso Sea."

"But _why_?" Clay stressed.

"Because I need to go there," Desmond said. Clay didn't look satisfied, but too bad. "Shaun, you can ask a question now," he said.

"Why didn't you announce yourself?" he asked, "You didn't need to go skulking about around here."

"Because I knew if I came in the front door it would have taken me too long to get to the Core Room because I would have needed to have this conversation. And I just wanted to finish something before starting another thing."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Would have been nice to have a warning."

Desmond smiled, "I wanted to surprise you. And trust me, for the look on all your faces when you saw me it was _well_ worth it," and Shaun wasn't the only one who rolled their eyes at him. Then he turned his gaze on Lucy and she swallowed, "You're last," he said.

"Can I talk to you after this whole thing? In private?"

"Of course," and that was an easy question to answer. Talking wasn't the only thing he wanted to do in private either. "You got a not stupid question Jake?" he asked.

"If you've been all over the place, how'd you find us? We haven't had any correspondence with you in six months."

"The AIs guided me," he said. "They still talk to each other."

"How did you get in?" Jake asked quickly.

"I told Demeter to open the front door, obviously. And that was two questions, its Hawk's turn now."

"How aware of the situation here are you?"

"You mean about the fun you've been having while I've been gone? I know. Four plantations take overs in six months is impressive. The proeathans are _super_ pissed and they don't know how you've done it. Frankly I think its amazing, since I saw one of the factories in southern Asia, and I don't even know where I'd start with liberating it."

"We had an ace they didn't account for," Altair said, "also its really disheartening for soldiers to watch the people they just shot and killed get back up again to continue fighting them. They didn't even see us coming."

"How do you know the proeathans know?" Hawk asked, as sharp as always.

"I met some," Desmond said. The questions started all at once again, "Woah, woah, calm the hell down," Desmond cried.

"What do you mean you _met some_?"

"I mean I met some," Desmond said then he sighed. "And actually, they're coming here."

"Desmond! This base is secret, the proeathans have never been able to find it because they don't know where Demeter is and you're going to just _let them in_?" Altair demanded. "Absolutely not."

"Altair," Desmond said, "Shut up," and Altair looked taken aback. "You guys have done a good thing. You made an army out slaves and yeah you've taken a few of their plantations but you have what? Twelve thousand people? How many of them actually decided to join this little army? Six thousand? Seven thousand?"

"Eight and some change," Hawk said.

"Eight and some change…" he laughed dryly, shaking his head a little. "Its not enough. The end game is Atlantis, its always, been Atlantis. And your eight thousand strong army is nothing. There are twelve million proeathans on earth, right now, from all different nations before we stopped them the first time. Between the factions there are two soldiers. Two _million_. I don't think you realize the scope of what we're up against. Proeathans outnumber us nearly two hundred and fifty to one at those odds.

"So I brought help," Desmond said, "Your eight thousand isn't going to make a dent, even trained by Assassins. These proeathans coming to Demeter want to _help us_, like the AIs do. For the past five months the proeathans have had time to reclaim Atlantis, fortify it, and prepare. They know we aren't dead, they damn sure know _I'm _not dead. So you might not like it, but they're coming, and I'm going to let them in."

"You can't expect us to-

"No, I do," Desmond cut Altair off like he never had before. Altair looked annoyed. "There are some things you all might need to come to terms with now, before shit gets going. I'm not the same guy I left as. And this base, that army you trained; its mine now."

"Desmond that's unreasonable," Shaun said.

He looked at the red head, "No, it isn't," he said. "I fucked this up. I'm unfucking it, and if that means I need to grab it by the balls and squeeze, I will. You might be in charge, but now you're running on my agenda and time table, because I know what needs doing, and you've been sitting here, twiddling your thumbs, waiting me to come back. Well here I am, and you've already declared war on the proeathans, I'm going to make sure we win it and not just buzz around them like annoying flies.

"Thirty thousand proeathans will be arriving at Demeter later tonight along with Artemis and a large cargo of tech from Venus. If any of you have a problem with that I will be happy to tell Demeter to see you to the surface."

"You wouldn't," Altair said, eyes slightly narrowed.

Desmond looked at him, dead in the eyes, "Yes I would. You're listening to me now, and that's the end of this discussion. Otherwise I _will_ have Demeter take you to the surface, and its the middle of summer up there, hot and dry and miserable. I know, I walked across it. So what's it going to be Altair?"

They all turned and looked at Altair, they knew if Altair balked, there'd be a fight, but if he didn't, they'd comply. Desmond wasn't playing anymore. He wasn't a child, he wasn't to be coddled. Six months away had done more for him than six months with his ancestors. They'd softened the blow of his choice, kept him close, and safe, protected him. But he'd been gone six months and he'd had to face all his choices, had to do things he didn't think he'd ever do. He'd grown stronger, more capable.

Proeathan lore said that the Unnamed wasn't just the end. It was the end, but it wasn't an event. It was a person who would bring about the end of life as they knew it. What exactly those words meant was up for a lot of debate apparently. But there was no debating that the Unnamed would be a man of stature, both in body and in presence, who would lead those who followed him to the destruction of all things. When Desmond had heard that he'd been terrified of what he could be.

But after what he'd seen, the people he'd seen suffer at the hands of the proeathans, he didn't feel like that anymore. He'd had to face his choices, and he could either be beat down like them like before when he'd wanted to kill himself nearly every day. Or he could step up and do something about it. He wasn't going to run anymore. If the proeathans wanted the end of the world; he'd fucking give it to them, and if he had to destroy everything either species had ever created to do so, he would.

He was tired of being weak, of being stepped on, of his desires not seeming to matter. Which was why he was here now, and why he was giving his ancestors, Altair, this choice. They could listen to him, and continue to do as they did. Or, they could go against him and he'd remove them. He knew his course, and he wouldn't let anyone get in his way, not the proeathans, not his ancestors, and damn sure not Altair.

"You've changed," Altair said.

"That tends to happen when the world ends," Desmond said flatly.

"I don't like it," Altair said, "But you're right. We need help. I wish it wasn't proeathans, but at this point beggars can't be choosers."

Desmond relaxed a little. He didn't want to have to send Altair away, he would have, but he didn't want to. So he was glad he didn't have to. "No," he agreed, "I'll keep them away from the humans, I don't want to freak them out unnecessarily by all the proeathans."

"Good," Altair said.

"Are there any other super pressing questions? I want to go shower and change clothes. These are ripe as shit."

"We can talk more later," Ezio said before anyone else could say no. "You need to tell us more about your journey," he said.

"I will," Desmond promised. "I don't promise it'll be very exciting. A lot of walking, but I will."

"Good enough," Ezio said and Desmond got to his feet, his legs aching, he just wanted to lay down and sleep for a day or two, recover a bit from that ordeal of walking from the Mediterranean carrying all those cores. Maybe he'd get a chance to relax, just a little, before he had to be on his game again. He wasn't the only one who got up and Shaun left quickly, Ezio did as well, he'd figure it out later.

Before he left though Altair came over and hugged him tightly, "I'm glad you're back, kid," he said.

Desmond hugged him back, "Had to eventually," and Altair clapped him on the back before releasing him. Hawk got to hug him next, it was brief but firm and he said nothing before leaving the room.

"Oh, Desmond," Jake said, "Uh… don't be freaked out if you see Cain around. He's… around," he said.

"I know," Desmond said, "I'm actually really up to date on the goings-on of this place," he said and Jake gave him a one armed hug. "Now, I really… want to shower."

"Yeah, you smell like hell," Jake held his nose and Desmond shoved him a little.

"I'll see you guys when I'm done, at the very least when the proeathans come," Desmond said.

"Right, maybe get some rest?" Altair asked.

"Yeah, that sounds about right. Demeter," he called, "Show me where I'm sleeping."

"Of course, Desmond," she said appearing next to him and led him out of the room. He'd only gone like ten feet before he heard someone following him, he turned and looked. It was Lucy. She looked nervous, "Hey," he said.

"Hi," she said, "Desmond-

"I know, you wanna talk. We will, I promise. I just want to wash up first."

"Okay," she said, "Have Demeter get me when you're done I— its important."

"Of course," he said and then she hugged him. He hugged he back, and she felt small in his embrace, though not fragile or weak. She felt as strong as steel. He'd missed her _so_ much and his memories were no comparison for her. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and he felt warm all over, his heart swelling. He held onto her for a while and she didn't seem to mind. Then he let her go, but held her at arms length. "I missed you," he told her.

He didn't understand why she looked sort of upset, "I'm glad you're back," she said. "I'll talk to you when you're done cleaning up, okay?"

"Yeah," and he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. He hadn't brushed his teeth in a while and he _so_ wasn't inflicting that on her. "I'll have Demeter get you, or Venus, she likes you."

"Okay," she said and he slid his hands off her and looked at Demeter. She nodded in a directed and walked off. Desmond followed her, feeling lighter than he had in months. He was back and nothing was going to get in his way of what needed doing or what he wanted.

* * *

few things i need to address because there seems to be some confusion about thing and things I won't be able to really explain in the story without extraneous narration and some general house keeping stuff:

1. Cain _is not_ afraid of Desmond. He never has been. Only the proeathans are afraid of Desmond. Cain respects Desmond the same way you respect a natural disaster. But he isn't _afraid_.

2. Hawk's name for Desmond has been Little Bird since the start of Flocking Movement, if he hasn't been calling him that in the last few chapters that's simply my oversight (similar to sometimes Hera doesn't speak in a 'royal we' fashion). Hawk's names for people are as follows: Altair, Big Eagle; Ezio, Little Eagle; Desmond, Little Bird; Jacob/Jake, Stray and then later, Crow; Clay, Blondie and then later Finch; Lucy, Blondie and then later Heron.

3. The glyphs were always going to cover Desmond's body, what he did or Atlantis had no bearing on their coverage.

4. Stop making me _feeeeeeeel _things I didn't need to feel *sob* I have enough feelings I don't need more.

5. I have a personal philosophy that sort of… forbids me from turning off anon. No matter how much people might fucking _frustrate me_, I won't turn it off.

I think that's it. I just wanted to clear that up because it seems to be a continuous theme in some of your heads,


	4. This Life is a Cage

Desmond had taken a long, cool, shower/bath when Demeter had finally shown him to his room. It was a big room, though rather simple. Desmond only cared that the bed was soft and that the shower worked. It had, and he'd scrubbed away weeks of dirt and sweat and grime from his body and washed his hair until it was soft and silky. Then he'd just relaxed in the bath and might have dozed off a bit. He said might have but he had as he was woken by Demeter talking to him, trying to wake him.

He was just so tired and hadn't really been able to rest in months. He always had to be awake, had to be alert. To sleep was to invite the proeathans, the bad kind, and he didn't want that. He was good, but he couldn't take on a bunch of proeathans alone, not without serious risk to his person. He'd learned how to handle them though, to a degree.

"Desmond, Lucy keeps asking about you," Demeter was saying, probably not for the first time, but this was the first time he was awake enough to understand it. "Should I tell her to just wait until dinner-

"No, I'm awake," Desmond said with a groan and sat up in the cold water which was rather pleasant after the hot trek through the desert. "Tell her she can come if she wants," and he heaved himself out of the tub and stepped out, his legs wobbled a little, he'd fallen asleep there.

"She's coming-

"You may want to get dressed," Venus said, sort of.

"Shut up," he groaned and put a towel around his waist and went to the mirror. His hair was too long, and he had a beard. He looked awful in a beard. "Demeter, I need a trimmer," and Demeter produced one for his use. He turned it on and shaved off his beard and a good portion of his hair. He didn't go full buzz cut like he had back in Russia, but it was a near thing. Demeter also gave him a razor and some shave gel to get rid of the short beard he was rocking. The blade gradually revealed the bottom of his head and the remaining glyphs on his jaw and neck. He patted his skin dry and washed it again, just enjoying washing himself with clean soap and water like he hadn't in six months. Instead he'd been washing in lakes and rivers with nothing but cold water for his effort for the most part.

"When's she getting here?" he asked.

"Once you dress, I'm leading her around the long way," Demeter said, "She's very… anxious to see you."

Desmond smiled a sort of dopy smile, "I'm looking forward to seeing her too," none of the AIs commented.

Desmond dressed in the clothes Demeter provided him. All the clothes were dark and while not formfitting were well tailored, the jacket had a deep hood on it too, which he appreciated. She also gave him skin tight, haptic, gloves, so he wouldn't have to remove them. His skin had become quite pale in the last six months, even as summer came upon them. Desmond kept himself almost completely covered, head to toe, unless he couldn't help it. The marks on his body made him easy to discern in a crowd or from afar, so he covered them. It sometimes made his life a bit hot, but he could live with being warm to avoid detection, which was the main thing.

"She's here," Demeter said and there was a knock on the door. Desmond went to it and pretended her knocking hadn't seemed hesitant. The door opened and Lucy was standing in the doorway, wearing clothes similar to his, but they were colored, blue and white instead of black and gray. "Hi," he said cheerfully, smiling. He still couldn't get over how amazing she looked, how beautiful.

"Hi," she said and stepped into his room. "What's with the suit?" she asked.

"This? Demeter just put it out," he shrugged.

"You look like Pluto," she said.

"Please, I look way better than Pluto," he said. That made her laugh a little.

"I'm glad you're back," she told him.

"Happy to be back, you wanted to talk about something?" he asked, cutting to the chase. He wanted to get whatever they had to talk about so they could maybe do other things with their mouths than talking.

"Yes," she took a deep breath and looked down.

"Lucy? What's the matter?" because that wasn't what someone did when they had good news. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end and he got nervous.

She seemed to be psyching herself up, clearly it was very bad news. Then she looked up at him. "I don't love you," she said like she was ripping off a bandaid but it brought her no satisfaction. Desmond rocked back a bit like he'd just been hit by a wave. "In fact, I barely remember spending time with you before you left."

"What?" he asked, "How?" how could she just… forget? Desmond felt his heart shrivel up and the hole in his chest start to yawn open wide.

Lucy's mouth twisted, she didn't want to do this. She knew how much he cared about her, he'd done everything the past six months to get back to her. The AI wouldn't tell him where Demeter was, and where Lucy was, until he'd done what he needed to do. "Flying numia is a strain for humans," she said, "and its worse for synthetics. I hurt myself flying the numia from Pluto to Demeter."

"They let you get hurt?" and for a second rage washed over him like a familiar balm, quenching his heart ache.

"Not on purpose," she said, "and they fixed me up, good as new." Desmond was about to call the lie when she said, "And while they were fixing the internal bleeding in my brain I asked Hera if she would…" her words failed her here. She swallowed before saying, "If she would undo what the proeathans had done."

"Done? What did they do?" he asked.

"I don't know what's real Desmond," she said, upset by this. "I have all these fake memories, ones I don't even know are real or not. I think they're Lucy's memories, but I don't know if they're real. I don't know if she really had a brother or grew up in Iowa or if her first day in Chicago scared her so badly she could barely leave her apartment for a week, or that she did love daisies over roses, or she ever… ever really felt anything for you," and Desmond just stared at her. "The proeathans gave me all these memories, all these emotions, and feelings. But I don't know if they're real. I still don't. So I asked Hera to at least try and fix that."

"And what did she do?" he asked, his voice soft, worn even though he wasn't tired, but he felt like someone had their hand inside his chest, squeezing his lungs and heart.

"I asked her if she could… make me not love you."

"Why?" he asked and wondered if he sounded as heart broken as he felt. By Lucy's face he knew, he did.

Lucy took a moment, breathed, "I have three and a half years to live," she said.

"What!" he cried and practically jumped over to her, she didn't stop him when he grabbed her arms. "What do you mean you have three and a half years to live?" anger and heartbreak gone, he was worried now.

"Synths aren't meant to stay around," she said. "Hera said I had four years left six months ago."

He hugged her, "I'm sorry," he said, holding her and she hugged him back. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"I don't have as much time as I hoped I did," she kept talking, "but with that time. I need… to know its all me. I'm not her. Whatever I think or feel, or do, it has to be me," she pushed him away. "Which is why I can't just let the proeathans control what I think, what I feel."

He looked down at her and more than anything he wanted to make her feel better. But he didn't know how. He knew when faced with your own mortality, there wasn't much others could do. You had to face it, and you either accepted, or it destroyed you. Desmond had been letting his own mortality destroy him, running as hard and as fast as he could to the other side, to escape a mess he'd made. He'd learned to accept it though. He had this life, and he was going to do something important with it, something good. He wasn't going to let his legacy be the end of the human race.

"So now what?" he asked her, and held her arms once more.

"I… I don't know," she said and she bit her lips to stop them from trembling. "I never wanted to hurt you but I knew that if I couldn't tell where the proeathan programing ended and I began that's all I'd be doing. I didn't want to have that lie between me and the people I care about."

Desmond made sure his voice didn't shake when he asked, "Have you found someone else?" He was honestly surprised with how steady his voice was, and how absolutely dead it sounded.

"No," she shook her head, "I don't… talk to adults much anymore. They stare at me, and whisper. I can't handle that."

"Why? Why do they do that?"

She looked down and shook her head a bit, "Its a story for later," she said. "I know you love me, and I don't back," and hearing her say it like that made his heart ache. "But, I'm willing to give you a chance, like several of the others here have wanted."

"Others?" Desmond asked.

"I'm a pretty important girl, Desmond," and she smiled slightly, though it only touched her eyes, "but I'm not a prize to win, or to be given, for anyone. Even you," and wasn't that a low blow. "The proeathans made me for you-

"But I don't get a free pass?" he asked.

"No," she said.

He let her and took a step back, "Okay," he said slowly, "I think you should leave," he said.

"Desmond-

"_Lucy_," he didn't mean for it to sound sharp, but it did, "Sorry. Just… please leave."

"I'm sorry," she said, "I've never wanted to hurt you," she told him.

His mouth twisted and he held back an angry and hurt retort. She'd never hurt him, and now she was. "Please," he said. She nodded slowly before leaving.

Desmond sat on his bed and while they said nothing he had a feeling all the AI had been monitoring the conversation. He sat there for a few minutes in silence. "It could be worse," Venus suddenly said.

Desmond looked up at the ceiling, "Where's Hera?" he asked.

"Desmond I don't-

"_Where's_ Hera? Show yourself," he ordered and looked down as the masked woman appeared before him. She removed her plain mask, revealing her face, so like Juno.

"If you wish to be angry with us you may," she said, "But we have no regrets."

Desmond stood up slowly, he dwarfed her holographic form, which seemed to shrink in his presence. "What did you do to her?"

"What she asked of us," Hera said, looking up at him. "You may be the _stadalla _but she is more important to us than you, and her happiness is our greater concern."

"I just can't have anything easy can I?" he asked, to no one in particular.

"Life is not supposed to be easy, Desmond," Hera said. "Your life is a series of trials. You have yours, Lucy has hers. You are one of her trials and she decided to face it by giving herself a chance."

"A chance? A chance for what? To forget how she feels about me-

"How she _thought_ she felt about you," Hera said. "Before you left what she felt for you was… mostly fake," and he stared at her. "The proeathans _made_ her love you, but the real Lucy didn't have those strong of feelings for you. Its why she doesn't love you now, because she never did."

"Shut up," he said softly.

"She wanted live the remaining of her years on her own time, not on the proeathans."

"Which is also your fault."

"We gave her as much time as we could," Hera said, "Synthetics are temporary tools, or expensive toys, they are not meant to last."

Desmond just stared at her, his jaw clenched. He was angry. Angry and hurt and it wasn't _fair_. He was used to the world not being fair, his entire life was unfair. But this was just _mean_. He had sacrificed everything for this, criss crossed the world almost half a dozen times, run for his life, not slept in days, done the impossible and then some. For what? To come home and be told that one of the only things important to him that he wasn't important to them? The world was cruel, but he figured that _eventually_ he'd get a break. Just once, things would go his way.

"Desmond," Venus suddenly said.

"What?" he snarled, furious and hurt.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing… oh, oh, fuck." Nothing was happening but he knew it was affecting the AI. The marks on his skin were glowing, brightly, to the point he could see them even through his clothes a bit and out of the corner of his eyes as the ones on his cheeks and jaw glowed. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He couldn't let it get out of control. He had to keep it in check. He took a few deep breaths and willed his anger, his pain, his heartache, away. When he got emotional it made the glyphs glow and had… interesting effects on nearby proeathan and even human tech. If he didn't watch it it got the better of him. The proeathans had shown him how to instill control, to force his mind and his body to obey him, so it obeyed him. He was no longer a slave to his body and mind, he was in control.

The glowing dimmed.

"It could be worse for you Desmond," Venus said, before he could ask how she continued, "she isn't with anyone else. She'll give you a chance."

"And she was truthful when she said many would like such a chance," Pluto said. "Most men, and quite a large number of women, would like to have the company of the Angel of the Lake."

"The… what?" Desmond squinted.

Pluto chuckled, "We kept you abreast of most of the situation. But you missed a lot," he said, "You should ask about it."

Desmond sighed and sat down again, deflated. "I guess I just… am going to have to do what I always have to do then. Work for something that shouldn't be this fucking hard to get," he rubbed his face.

"She is not a prize," Hera said.

"I know," he said softly. "But sometimes you want good things in your life. I know that's hard to understand for you Hera," and she scowled at him. "And sometimes they shouldn't have to nearly kill yourself to get them."

None of them said anything, but Desmond knew they were there, watching him. "So what now?" Artemis asked.

"I'm going to win her back, obviously," he said, a bit insulted.

"Good," Artemis said cheerfully.

"Though that will have to wait," Demeter said. "You slept in that bath for a while. The Ilythians are here."

Desmond grunted and got to his feet, "Right," he said, "time to get to work," and left the room, pulling up his hood as he did.

* * *

Heron cause you're still getting through PH rn but I haven't updated there in a bit, should tell you; most of the things you brought up, I'm already dealing with/have dealt with. Also how dare you give me more feels about daddytair.


	5. The Mockingbird Speaks

When Desmond arrived at the command center, different than the one he'd been led to the first time, it was in a coordinated frenzy. There were all manner of people at stations, working, looking at screens, talking. The large holo table in the center of the room showed a fleet of numia, all headed towards Demeter. No one noticed him when he entered which gave him time to slip away from the door and find someone who was actually in charge.

He found Altair rather quickly, standing close to the center, talking with a man Desmond didn't know. "There's no need for this level of excitement," Desmond said to Altair.

"There are over a hundred numia headed for Demeter right now, we couldn't contain it even if we tried," Altair said and turned back to the man. They were speaking in rapid French, then the man nodded, and left quickly. Altair beckoned and Desmond followed him away from the center and to the side where there was a smaller station of machines. Hawk was sitting at one, his eyes dancing across the screen. He looked up when Altair and Desmond neared.

"Mind telling us what's going on?" he asked Desmond.

"I told you," Desmond said, "I have an army coming to bolster our numbers."

Hawk sighed, "Everyone's freaking out and we don't know how to calm them down," he admitted. "There are some fear mongers in our ranks and it took them no time for the entire base to hear."

"So… no hiding it," Desmond said.

"Despite our best efforts," Hawk sighed.

"Then lets not hide it," Desmond pushed his hood back a bit, "Mercury, connect us to the proeathan flight communications," he said.

"Desmond, what are you doing?" Hawk hissed.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. I know what I'm doing," he said.

"I've established contact," Mercury said, "Just talk, they'll hear."

"Fantastic," and then he dug around in his brain for the Ilythian. Since he'd rapidly learned two tongues through the Bleeding Effect learning new languages was incredibly easy for him, much like learning to fight was. "Who's leading the fleet?"

"Ando Od," Mercury said.

"Right," Desmond cleared his throat, _"Demeter to Ando, do you copy?"_

"_This is Ando_," came the proeathan voice and it was played over the entire room. Everyone abruptly fell silent, all chatter and typing stopping, to listen.

_"We're anticipating you're arrival, Ando_," Desmond said, _"What is your ETA?_"

"_Five minutes_," or roughly so, proeathans didn't measure time the same way humans did. A proeathan minute was about half again as long as a human minute.

_"The hanger doors will be open,_" Desmond said.

_"Copy, Demeter. _We look forward to it," they said the last bit in English, their accent about as bad as Desmond's was in proeathan. It made a bunch of the humans nervous.

_"Don't make the humans unnecessarily anxious. They're already scared of the fleet_."

_"Right_, apologies," and Desmond smiled a bit, despite himself.

"_Copy. Out,_" Desmond said.

"What the fuck was that?" Hawk demanded as talking started again, this time with more than a thread of fear in it.

"Ilythian. Very… bad Ilythian," Desmond said.

"Ilythi-what?"

"Ilythian, its the language the Ilytha proeathans speak." Hawk and Altair just looked at him like he had two heads. "What? You can't expect all proeathans to speak the same tongue can you? Not even humans speak the same language," and he saw them both give him looks like yeah, he was right.

"Who are the Ilythians?" Hawk asked.

"A proeathan nation that are considered turn coats by the majority of the proeathans. There are just about thirty thousand of them left and they don't like the way the world is. They didn't like it while we were running it, but they don't like the new world order either."

"So an enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Altair asked.

"More of less," Desmond shrugged.

"Are they afraid of you?" Hawk asked.

"Petrified," he grinned, "I can't even be near one when they're alone. They only come near me in groups."

"And they agreed to come here, seriously? Into a box in the ground with you?"

"Enemy of my enemy is my friend," Desmond said, "The other proeathans are trying to kill or lock up the Ilythians," he said, "and probably attempt to reeducate them. Its me, or that. They're risking me."

"Nothing the proeathan do make sense," Hawk said, "They kill us to make themselves great, and they also… hunt their own species too do what?"

"Weed out dissent," Altair said, "Assassins do it all the time. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down." Desmond nodded. "And you're a mighty big nail, Desmond," he said.

He grinned, despite himself, "A bit, yeah," he agreed. "Now, we should go to the hanger, they aren't all going to be able to fit at once. These people know you, you need to calm them down, and keep them away. Can you do that?"

"Probably," Altair's mouth went thin a moment, "Scramble the minutemen," he told Hawk, "We'll need them to keep the other back so they don't crowd the hanger, or the numia."

"On it," Hawk said.

"C'mon, we should meet them there," Altair said and Desmond followed him out of the command center and down the hall. "So, you ever going to tell us what happened while you were gone?"

"One day," Desmond said, "We don't really have time for the full story right now though. I doubt we will till this is over."

"Right," and then Altair was quiet a moment. Desmond sensed he had something to say. "Did Lucy talk to you yet?"

"Yes," Desmond said lowly. Altair said nothing, "Nothing to say? No gloating?" he questioned.

"It isn't easy being in love," Altair said, "And I have no room to gloat."

"That's a first."

Altair gave him a look, "She's proved herself invaluable to us."

"You mean the whole Angel of the Lake thing? Which, by the by, what the fuck is that about?"

"I'll tell you later, promise, its a tale, much like your journey."

"Probably more exciting. Mine was… boring, until I met the Ilythians."

"Well now we're all going to meet the Ilythians," Altair said as they entered the main hanger with its great drop shaft that led up to Lake Chad. Above they could see a small winking blue eye that was the sky above from the hole in the lake created by Demeter opening her hanger doors. There was no one in the hanger just yet, at least no mortals. Standing nearly dead center of the hanger, looking up at the little speck of sky far above, was Cain. "Also, he's here."

"I know," Desmond said. The AI had told him, but as always they were secretive about what they'd given him for his services, his loyalty.

Cain looked at them as they approached, "Took you long enough," he said with a sneer.

"Some of us have more important things to do than gawk at nothing," Altair snapped.

Cain chuckled, "Its only nothing if you're looking in the wrong places," he said as minute men started to show up, armed as before as Desmond had seen them, Ezio with them. Clearly Ezio was their commander.

"Can't take my eyes off either one of you for five damn minutes without you biting at each other's ankles," Ezio said as the minute men formed up at the entrances of the hanger. He came over to them. "Play nice, or at least pretend to, for at least a few minutes?"

Cain smiled at Altair, "Shut up," Altair growled.

"I said nothing," Cain said, still smiling.

"Yeah but you were thinking it," Altair snapped.

"God," Desmond sighed, "both of you just shut up. Go sit in the corner or something. I so don't have time for your petty argument about the past anymore."

"Desmond he-

"You should listen to him," Cain said, "He's smarter than you. Not that that's exactly hard."

"_Cain_," Desmond turned hard eyes on him, "be quiet."

Cain pinched his thumb and forefinger together and drew it across his mouth like he was zipping it shut, but his smug smile never faltered. He was enjoying this. Well he could enjoy it and keep his damn mouth shut. Bad enough he had Altair around with his big head, he didn't need Cain's either. "Mercury, connect me back with the fleet," he said.

There was a brief pause, "_Base Demeter, this is Ando Od of the Starboard, do you copy?"_

_"Ando, this is Demeter, we copy_," Desmond said.

"_We see the lake. And the hole."_

_"Good, I trust you to know how to handle your own fleet in making sure they all land safely."_

_"Are there fivers around?"_

Desmond paused, fivers was what proeathans called humans, the same way some Americans had still called black people niggers. It was a jab at their senses, weaker than proeathans, and they had only five. Not like proeathans with their sixth sense who could train it to do anything from divination to being able to sense others around them, to even being able to predict the flip of a coin. And of course they had a robust, fully functioning, version of the Eagle Vision which when Desmond had heard of it made him feel so totally watered down. The proeathans trained their sixth sense to a fine point, so while they couldn't do everything, they could do one thing very well.

_"I'm a fiver,"_ Desmond snapped.

There was a long pause on the other end, _"Only just _stadalla_," _they said, _"Are there others there?"_

_"Yes. We'll talk again when you land. And try and not be a disrespectful group of _keens_ in my presence again_."

There was another long pause, though this time it held a wary air, "_Of course _stadalla. _Over. Out_."

"Fucking proeathans," Desmond growled.

"What'd he say?" Altair said.

"They're going to start descending," and Desmond looked up, the blue eye winked and closed as a shadow passed over it. Though not really a shadow, rather a numia. The eye didn't open, meaning the numia was descending.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Altair asked.

"It's the best one we got," Desmond said. "Once your army has learned a few more tricks from the Ilythians and how to fight against some of the things the proeathan army has to throw at us, we'll be moving on Atlantis."

"How long do you think that'll take?" Ezio asked.

"Few weeks if we're lucky," Desmond said. "You guys haven't seen the things the proeathans have. They have mechs."

"_Mechs_?" Ezio asked, eyes going wide.

"Yeah. Mechs, and these insane, mounted, nearly kamikaze two wheeled cavalry things. I've seen video of that and more in action-" he looked up when drops of water landed on them in a brief ran. "For the love of God I literally just changed," he sighed.

"What was that? Demeter?" Altair called.

"I had to widen my main doors," Demeter said, "I did not anticipate Artemis being so large."

"Did you just call me fat?" Artemis cried.

"Of course not," Demeter said.

"Good. Because I'm littler than you."

"Only on the outside," Demeter said.

"Ladies, please," Desmond said, "Bad enough we're going to have proeathans in here. I don't need fighting AIs along with fighting armies," he rubbed his forehead and felt some of a grooves burned into his skin.

"Yes Desmond," they said at the same time and fell silent.

"They listen to you," Altair said.

"Of course they do, I'm the _stadalla_," he said, like it was obvious.

"What's that?" Ezio asked.

"Their word for the Unnamed," Desmond shrugged, "its like one of the few words that all proeathan languages have in common, _stadalla_, along with… oh what _was_ it?" it was on the tip of his tongue.

"_Hotai," _Cain said.

"Yes that was it and _how_ do _you_ know that?" Desmond said, eyeing him.

Cain grinned, "I know a lot of things," he said. "Perhaps you'd like to hear them."

"That can wait, we need to move," Desmond said and glanced up. The great shadow was closer now and it wasn't a shadow at all. It was a _massive_ aircraft. Easily larger than any Boeing previously on the market, and like all the other numia Desmond had ever seen was elegant in its appearance, its shape perfectly curved and seamless. This numia was a pearly white color that seemed to shimmer in the light of the hanger.

They quickly got out of the way of the huge numia as it landed to rest gently on the ground. There was a low thud and then a panel in the side opened and a staircase was dropped down. A moment passed and then a tall man exited the numia and climbed down the staircase. Two more people followed and once they were on the ground the staircase rolled back up and the numia closed once more. There was a higher pitched droning noise and the numia lifted a dozen or so feet into the air and then near silently glided out of the main landing pad and deeper into Demeter's vast hanger.

The three people, proeathans really, came towards them. Desmond recognized all of them. They were all tall, taller even than him, with fine, raven wing, black hair, dirt colored skin, uncomfortably high cheekbones and large, yellow eyes. The man in front had a long face and a wide, downturned mouth, his nose small and elegant. The others was a man, lean through and through with skin that seemed too tight to his bones and shadowed eyes with a slightly protruding brow line, he'd plucked his eyebrows to non existence leaving only smooth, medium toned, skin behind. The third was a woman who was slender and without a single womanly grace to her name. She was built like and walked rather like a board with legs and had a sharp, cat-like, face, with an slightly cleft upper lip. For what reason Desmond didn't know, but it was better if you didn't ask with these people.

_"Stadalla_," the first man, with the frowning mouth, said. He hesitated and then reached out to shake Desmond's hand. Proeathans, Ilythians or otherwise, didn't shake hands like humans did. It was a strictly human custom as it was rude to insist on touching upon meeting someone, since you couldn't know how they'd trained their sixth sense and could very well be a touch sensitive empath. Different rules applied.

Desmond grabbed his hand firmly, "Od, _good to see you again_," he said, "_How was your flight_?"

"_Long_," he looked up as another numia arrived at the bottom of the great hanger, it didn't touched down though, merely hovered in the air and turned on its horizontal axis and followed the huge numia into the hanger proper. "_This will be going a while_," he said.

Desmond nodded, "Everyone," he said, "This is _Ando _Od Sighted, commander of the Ilythian fleet. These are his Firsts, _Sengar_s Inti Deft and Zorya Cun," he motioned first to the man, and then the woman, who both inclined their heads, knowing enough English to know they were being introduced. "_And this is some of the humans you'll be fighting with. This is _Ezio Auditore, Altair ibn La'Ahad,_ and… _Cain_."_

The three proeathans looked over at Cain, "_I thought you said there were only fiv- humans here," _Od said, not taking his eyes off Cain.

"_There are. You're the only _keens_ we've had down here,_" and Desmond was going to keep calling them keens every time they said or almost said fiver. Keen basically meant good for nothing, or talentless, someone who hadn't trained their sixth sense good enough and were thus useless in proeathan society. It was as bad a slur as fiver, but directed at proeathans instead of humans.

Od scowled at him, but got the hint. "Hmm," was all he said, "_Have they never seen a proeathan up close_?" he was looking behind Desmond's shoulder. Desmond turned and looked, and saw all the minutemen turned around, staring, eyes so wide he could see them even at a distance.

"Ezio, aren't your men more disciplined than that?" Desmond asked him.

"Oi!" Ezio suddenly cried, "You can gawk later! Right way round!" the minutemen all turned hastily. "Better?"

"Marginally," Desmond said. Numia were still descending and would for a while. The Ilythian fleet was huge, and they'd have to maneuver Artemis into place at Demeter's direction. "Do any of you have anything to add?" he asked Ezio and Altair.

"How well do they understand English?"

"Well enough," Od said, his accent utterly horrific. Desmond knew his Ilythian wasn't much better.

"Good, I'll use small words. None of us trust you. We've prepared a place for you, and you're to stay there unless we say. The humans and proeathans will be separate to avoid panic. Understood?"

Od gazed down at Altair, and for a moment his eyes turned blue, but it was only for a second before dying down. "Yes," he said. Od looked over at Desmond, "_You should teach your men better manners."_

_"Would if I could."_

_"Yes_," Od glanced at Altair, _"It is so hard to take the aggression out of your kind. But we will abide, we want refuge here just as much as you. When you call us _stadalla_ we will come."_

_"Good."_

_"Until that time however, I should go to oversee the movement of my fleet."_

_"Of course. We'll talk again soon," _Desmond said.

_"Of that, I have no doubt_," Od said and he motioned to his Firsts and turned to head towards the part of the hanger where all the numia were landing and expelling their cargo of proeathans.

"You trust them?" Altair asked.

"Yes," Desmond said.

"Why?"

"Because," Desmond said, "they saved me when I was going to die."


	6. Condor

alt chapter title: Exposition, its what's for dinner

Gonna be having a lot of exposition over the next few chaps. It's just something that has to happen. Lots of talk, little doing; it drives me crazy, I just wanna get to _that part_, you know the one, the one I am **_super excited__ about_**.

* * *

"Say that again," Altair said, of course he did.

"They saved me," Desmond said. "On my way through India I ran out of food and was starving. I went to sleep one night and woke up to a bunch of Indians who thought I was a proeathan. I don't know what they were saying, but I was going to get lynched. I think I was in their safe zone or something and they were scared and I was a big, tall, being wearing proeathan clothes with proeathan weapons. Didn't matter I don't really look proeathan. Normally I would have just fought them off but I was too tired, too weak.

"They were about to put the rope around my neck and hang me when Od and the other Ilythians came. They didn't hurt any of the people, but their presence scared them all away. They could handle one proeathan, but an entire group? They took me onto the Starboard and fed me."

"You just ate food proeathans gave you? It could have been poisoned," Ezio said critically.

"I hadn't eaten in like a week and a half. I honestly didn't give a shit," Desmond said. "Artemis and Mercury were freaking out the entire time up till… this point actually. They fed me and then let me go with a few MREs."

"Bull shit," Ezio said.

"No, really," Desmond said. "The Ilythians are, for the most part, total pacifists."

"But they're joining a war cause," Altair said blandly.

"Pacifism is different for proeathans," Desmond explained. "For us it is no war, no violence, and do not hurt anyone or anything. For proeathans it is more like… well, exactly how the Assassins do. Peace through death," Altair's eyes narrowed. He didn't like being compared to the proeathans. Well tough shit, they were a lot alike. "And like I said, they don't like how the proeathans are running the show now, but they weren't so fond of how the humans were either."

"So then what do they like?" Altair asked, irritably. Still not happy to have just been compared to proeathans. Again; tough shit.

"They want to live, and live peacefully. They aren't as horribly spiciest as most proeathans are, they know humans aren't that bad. They just are young and don't know what they're doing. Apparently the proeathans almost destroyed themselves through climate change and wars too. But they figured it out. Humans progressed too quickly technology wise without thought of how it should actually be used and we were going to probably destroy ourselves, or wipe out half the planet."

"Instead the proeathans did that for us," Ezio said bitterly and then flinched, clearly he hadn't meant to say that. "Uh…"

"What?" Desmond asked.

"Were we telling him?" Ezio asked Altair guiltily.

"Tell me what?" Desmond asked.

Altair sighed a little, and rubbed his chin, "The actual, estimated, death toll."

"I know," Desmond said and swallowed. "There's like seven hundred thousand of us left; on a high estimate."

"You know?" Altair asked.

"I told you; I know a lot of what's been going on. The Ilythians, after I left them, followed me, probably to make sure I wouldn't accidentally die like I almost did before. After a few days I just stopped and tried to communicate with them. They could help me. After the initial language barrier was mostly taken care of I learned a lot about what's going on with the other proeathans and the situation with our species. I know you know about the 'seed banks', as the proeathans call them."

"The what?" Ezio asked.

"The children. Which, by the way, what did you do with them?"

"They're here," Altair said.

"All of them?"

"All of them. Lucy wouldn't let us leave a single one behind."

Desmond rocked back onto his heels, honestly floored. The proeathans apparently didn't know what had happened to the children. They shouldn't have lived outside their pods. "They're alive?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't they be?" Altair asked. Desmond blinked. "Is that bad? Is there something we should know about them?"

"No," Desmond said, "No its fantastic. I know the main seed bank in Siberia now has more security though, so what'd happened to the plantations can't happen there."

"…Main one?" Altair asked.

Desmond rubbed his face. There was just so much to tell and he was still so tired. "We'll talk about it later-

"Desmond-

"We'll talk about it _later_," Desmond told him, his tone hard, almost mean, but in control. _He_ was in control here. Not the proeathans, not Altair, not anyone else. He'd played the good soldier like Pluto had accused him of six years ago, always doing as ordered, even when he didn't know he was doing it. But now he was directing his destiny. He knew where he had to go, what he had to do, but he'd do it on his time table, his schedule, and on his say. He was tired of being treated like he wasn't even there. No more running around on other people's prerogative to do this, or do that, or Desmond you better figure this out or the entire world is going to get bent over and fucked. No more. He mattered. What he wanted _mattered_. He wasn't going to let anyone tell him what to do anymore.

Altair frowned, but said nothing. "Back to what I was saying about the Ilythians," Desmond continued. "I talked to them, learned a lot of stuff, including how much they… kinda hate the other proeathans and think they're doing a super _A plus_ _job_ at their second time on Earth," he said sarcastically. "They wouldn't let me fly in their numia though. I make them too nervous. So. I had to keep walking. But they landed every night and I figured stuff out, learned stuff I needed to learn you weren't telling me," he said.

"Desmond you know we were just-

"I know," Desmond cut Ezio off. "You were protecting me. But… I can't have you doing that any more. I spent a few months being a self pitying bastard before I left because you were protecting me from the truth. So instead of getting to hear the truth as numbers or figures I could digest, I had to see it first. And now… I know," he took a deep breath. "I know what I did."

"You were just doing what you thought was right," Ezio said.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," Desmond said. He didn't let himself sink into it though. He didn't let it consume him like he had so many times before. He was able to get up, move forward. He wouldn't get mired in his self pity, his self loathing. He had _way_ too much to do for that right now, and it didn't help anyone, including him. "Doesn't matter what I intended. This is what I have to deal with."

"So what's going to happen now?" Altair asked.

"I'm going to go to bed," Desmond said. "And tomorrow I'm going to talk to Od about teaching your army proeathan tactics. I know you have Pluto but he's… out of date."

"I heard that," Pluto chimed in from the nothing.

"You are," Desmond said. "The proeathans have humans working for them. Humans who know how to fuck up other humans. They've changed proeathan warfare. So, we need to change too. It shouldn't be too difficult, if you guys," he meant his ancestors and the Assassins, "have been training them I'm sure it'll be an easy transition."

"You expect these people to follow proeathan orders? Desmond they're terrified and _hate_ proeathans," Altair said.

"I expect them to do what needs to be done so our species isn't obliterated," Desmond said. "I'm not about to tell your men to do anything. They're your men, they know you, trust you, respect you. I'm not stupid enough to think I can just show up and expect them to listen to me. But you will."

Altair rubbed his eyes. "Okay, so what exactly are you expecting."

"Who are your trainers?" Desmond asked.

"The Assassins," Altair said, "we have some actual military minds from amid the former slaves, and a number of martial arts masters, some marksmen et cetera. We've given them officer ranks. They lead most of our units."

"Then those are the people who will be training with the Ilythians. Just them. Tell them nothing is going to go sideways. If it helps, tell them they're scared of _me_, and I'll be there, for every session. And," he sort of laughed here, "You'll see for yourself how much actual proeathan are scared of me. It took me _weeks_ to convince them to train me."

Altair opened his mouth, "We'll talk about it later. I promise," he said. "Just not… right now. I just walked across the sahara carrying like fifty pounds. I want to eat, sleep, and not do anything for like thirteen hours. Think you can manage to keep everyone alive and not at each other's throats for thirteen hours?"

"Yeah, I think we can manage that," Altair said.

"Good," Desmond said. He looked up at the numia, still descending. "Do you want me to stay and monitor this?" he asked.

"No," Ezio said before Altair could say anything. He grabbed Desmond by the shoulder. "You're right kid, you deserve a few hours of rest to not have to deal with _all_ this. You let me, and Altair, and Hawk, worry about these children for a bit. You get some grub and get some sleep."

"Fantastic," Desmond said.

"Also, don't go near Clay," Ezio added.

"Why?" Desmond frowned.

"He… kinda hates you?" Ezio said, half apologetic.

"What? Why?" Why the hell would Clay hate him? He'd only met Clay once, and hadn't left his island in bad spirits.

"Well you kinda did exactly what he didn't want to happen and rose Atlantis. Which is basically the worst thing you could have done."å

"Yeah, probably," Desmond agreed. "But it needed to be done. The other choice was to travel under the surface of the earth, somehow, and tunnel into the pocket the city was in. Raising it was the more logical choice."

"Also apparently you're like the dang antichrist or some shit."

Desmond's brows went up, "Won't find any argument here. Now, food, and bed for me. Keep your people away from the hanger. Demeter will find a place for the Ilythians. _Away_ from the humans, promise. Don't set anything on fire and I'll see you in a few hours. Deal?"

"Sounds like a plan," Ezio agreed. Desmond nodded, made sure his hood covered most of his face, and then walked out of the hanger, past the minutemen who looked like they were using every ounce of will they had to not look at the landing numia. They'd get all the eyefuls of the Ilythians than wanted once the two sides were more amicable to each other. When that would be Desmond had no freaking clue, but that wasn't his problem. Filling his stomach was.

* * *

For the record: you guys are way worse to Desmond than me. Its like you _want_ him to have a sad ending where he dies alone. With the way things are going I might just rewrite the entire end so he does. Just to spite you with the good ending I have planned XD

Also I think someone mentioned something about the proeathans being disadvantaged cause they lost "so many" important AIs. Meanwhile I'm looking at my notes of just what all the AIs actually _do_ and like… lols, no, not disadvantaged at all.


	7. Strength of the Raptor

I'm going to break some of your brains with this one kekekekekekekekekekeke

also, give Des some credit guys, srsly

* * *

As Desmond had thought when Altair had told his men to do something, they did something. Apparently there had been some complaining because Altair wanted them to train with proeathan? But apparently training had won out and now here they were.

There were about a hundred officers in their little army, including his ancestors, Jake and Lucy on one side of the big room Demeter had given them. He also recognized Shaun in their ranks and, of all people, his father, though he knew Andrew couldn't be able to do most of the training. He was probably here for the theory. Standing next to Shaun was Rebecca, but she didn't seem to be here to fight, more like offer moral support? For Shaun maybe? Who knew, maybe she was here to kick ass.

On the other side of the room was nearly twice as many Ilythians, with Od at the head along with his seconds. He recognized a few, but many of the Ilythians he knew weren't here. These were their battle masters, their trainers, their most seasoned veterans, to train the little human army. Desmond had mostly known the teachers, ones who'd told him what he'd needed to know, and could speak in some human language he could understand.

Desmond wasn't standing with either group, but not in the middle either. He was off to the side, still dressed in dark grays, his body almost totally covered except for his face. He'd gotten enough eyefuls from some of the other humans the last two days to make him just want to put a bag over his head. He didn't though. It would just draw yet more attention to him, attention he didn't want.

Once the people had finished gathering in the training room Altair went over to the Ilythians. Desmond peeled himself off the wall and followed after him.

Od looked down at the both of them as they approached, "How good's your English?" Altair asked him, not batting an eye at the proeathan who could have been their slaver.

"Fair," Od said in his horrible accent and glanced at Desmond with a touch of nervousness when he stood next to Altair. He might have known these proeathans for about three months, but he still made them nervous. They were truly afraid of him, though Desmond didn't quite get why. He'd told them over and over again he wasn't going to hurt them if they didn't hurt him. It had everything to do with what he was in their mythos though. The end times were upon them in his shape and they were terrified.

"Okay. So how are we going to do this?" Altair asked him.

"My masters wish to evaluate your skills," Od said.

"Meaning?"

"We will fight you. We don't expect anyone except for Desmond to put up much of a fight though."

Altair's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Why's that then?" he growled.

"These proeathans trained their sixth sense for anticipation," Desmond said since Od just looked frustrated with Altair. "Quite literally they can see the blow almost before its coming."

"I've never had a problem fighting other proeathans," Altair said.

"Normal soldiers do not have these skills," Od said, trying to be patient but clearly thought Altair was an idiot for not understanding instantly like Desmond. "We wish to see your hand to hand as well as shooting abilities since the Adjetevs use both in their military."

"Adjetevs?" Altair was totally lost now and again Od looked frustrated.

"The main proeathan force," Desmond said quickly. "They sort of run everything. The Ilythians are just one of the smaller subgroups of proeathans who got to go into stasis. But the Adjatevs were the ones who built all the bases, most of the proeathans out there are Adjetevs. Like, if the Americans built a bunker to survive nuclear war and then allowed parts of other countries to stay with them for a while," he said, putting it into easier terms.

"How many 'other countries' are there?" Altair asked Desmond.

"Seven," he said, "and then the Adjatevs makes eight. Half of sixteen; holy number." Altair growled wordlessly, he hated the fucking proeathans. Desmond nearly laughed. "Most just do what the Adjetevs say because they saved them during the last war."

"And now they don't?" he shot an angry look at Od.

"The Ilythians do not keep slaves," Od said very calmly. Desmond knew Od was rarely rustled. He'd get sort of frustrated with a 'dumb fiver' but he'd never let it affect him. "Then, or now. It goes against our belief that all creatures should be allowed to chose for themselves," and Altair's face grew dark. He didn't like that the Ilythians had the same philosophy of him, as the Assassins. "Obedience should be given, not taken. The Adjetevs do not ask for obedience, they demand it, and we were quite tired of that," he said.

Altair took a deep breath and then said, "Very well. How do you want my men to prepare for this evaluation?"

"Make sure they are ready to fight, whatever that means for you, and split them into sixteen groups. We shall do the same. My men are very eager to see what your side can provide us, we have never seen humans fight before."

"Fine," Altair said shortly and turned on his heel and stalked off. Desmond followed.

"You don't have to be so mad," Desmond said. "I thought you'd like the Ilythians. They basically follow your exact code of honor."

Altair glared at him, "A proeathan has my exact code of honor. Yes, I love it," he said sarcastically.

"Grow up," was all Desmond said, with a roll of his eyes.

They arrived back at the group of humans and Altair did as Od had said, having his people split into sixteen groups by counting off, so no one would just be with friends. Desmond followed him as he went through the group, assigning them numbers.

Then they came to one.

"What are you doing here?" Altair growled at Cain.

Cain's smile was mischievous. "I'm here to take part, what else would I be here for?"

"I'm not putting you with my men," Altair said.

"That's okay. I'll just be in group seventeen with the kid," and he winked at Desmond. Desmond couldn't help but find it amusing. Altair scowled at the both of them.

"You will not-

"Its fine," Desmond said. "I'm not going to be in a group anyway. The fighting masters know what I can do. So you get to be in seventeen all by yourself, Cain," Desmond said.

Cain laughed at that, "Oh I like him Abel. He reminds me of you before you became so petty."

Altair looked like he was about to throw a punch but Desmond pushed Altair away, to the next person who was given a number. Once the sixteen groups were made, each with six members, except for two which had seven, Altair told them to get ready to fight. So the groups split apart and went to limber up, stretch, and get in the zone. Across the room the Ilythians were doing much the same.

Desmond joined a group at random, giving them a seventh member. They looked at him with frowns. "Hi," he said cheerfully, "I'm Des, don't mind me," and he sat, and bent over his legs to grab the bottoms of his feet with the rest of them. Once they saw he wasn't going to do anything they continued their stretches in order.

Then when they were done Desmond left the group. Od was coming over to them. Altair got there a few seconds before he did. "-my men will join each of your groups. They will test their skills. I've made sure each group has someone who can speak English in it, is that fair?"

"Yeah, some of our members don't speak English though," Altair said.

Od frowned, "Why not?"

"They just don't," he said. "Most can understand part of it at least. One of our men only speaks Swahili."

"How do you communicate?"

"I speak Swahili," Altair said.

"Then you'd best be in his group. None of us know such a language. We know English, because the Stadalla does."

"And some really old Italian and Arabic but that isn't going to help anyone but you, Jake, and Ezio," Desmond added.

Altair shot him a look, but though he looked about to explode with questions, he said nothing. "Fine," he said.

"I will send my men over. Make sure none of them," he sighed here, "make sure they don't scream."

"Why would they?"

"Humans tend to do that when they see us. It is very… aggravating to us. Humans have a very piercing scream."

"Right," Altair said and rolled his eyes. Od left. Altair told his men what was going to happen and the groups naturally spaced themselves out a bit.

A group of twelve proeathans approached and went to one of the human groups. Desmond, and probably every one else, could feel the tension when they first approached. And then, to everyone's amazement, within twenty seconds, a human laughed. The Ilythians gave one of their own a clearly annoyed look, they'd said something stupid clearly. But the laughter snapped the tension right in half. The now larger group moved away from the others. The room was big enough to house everyone comfortably with room to spare.

After the first one went the others came, just one or two groups at a time. Clearly the Ilythians didn't want to scare the humans by having a large number of them come at once. Desmond thought that was rather smart on Od's part. But then, Od was Ando for a reason, kinda came with the territory.

Finally the last proeathan group joined the last human group. There was fighting already going on, controlled rounds clearly. Desmond watched them, standing outside of the groups. Not a single human won, and few made it past half a minute with the Ilythian masters. But there was no hard victory. The Ilythian master would look down at them, cock their head to the side, their eyes flash a brilliant, pale, blue, and then they'd step back.

Desmond joined a random group. The Ilythians noticed instantly and they all, even the one in the middle of a fight, turned to him and inclined their shoulders to him. Well damn. "Odikais stadalla," they said in greeting, one or two touching their first two fingers to their lips. The humans looked horribly confused and peered at Desmond, trying to figure out who he was. He didn't know a single one of them.

The fight ended almost as soon as it restarted. The Ilythian master helped the woman up and she stepped back. "Would you like a boute, stadalla?" the translator asked, his accent even worse than Od's.

"Only if you stop calling me that," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"Apologies," he said.

"Sure then," and Desmond pushed his hood off, it'd do no good in a fight but make it hard to see. The master bowed to him, and he bowed back. Then he fell back into a fighting stance he knew they hated.

Desmond was good at fighting. He always had been. He'd always wanted to be like Duncan though, a pacifist. But it never worked out. Desmond was, in short, a natural and took to fighting forms like a fish to water. Even before the end of the world he was leaps and bounds above anyone else with just a few hard months of training under three Master Assassins because his body had never really forgotten the forms he'd been taught as a boy. And he'd never forgotten the street fighting he'd learned while on the road or the brief time he'd taken up kick boxing. He'd been too good at it, it'd scared him, so he'd stopped. He always told himself he didn't want to fight, that there was something wrong with him because he loved it so much, was so good at it, found it so easy.

He didn't think that anymore. He had a natural inclination, and when he stopped fighting against it, it made him amazing. He'd tried so hard to be bad at fighting, at shooting, at being anything but a pacifist who only fought to defend himself. Now he was what he always should have been, a warrior. He took bits and pieces of all the styles he'd learned as a kid and in the cities and in the Animus, and now from the Ilythians and twisted them together in a way that made the Ilythian masters irritated with him. It made him hard to predict, made him hard to hit, and thus, hard to beat. It didn't help that he was fast.

The master eyed him, Desmond eyed him back, not looking at his eyes, but at his hips. Ilythians martial arts led with the legs and hips, and was mostly airborne, with lots of jumps and flips. The hands weren't as dangerous as the legs, which could be around your neck in an instant. The trick was to either not let them get airborne, or to fly with them.

Desmond went into Eagle Vision as the master lunged forward, clearing four feet in the air, his foot aimed at Desmond's throat. But Desmond wasn't there, he had already dodged. The Ilythians knew to not go easy on him, if they went easy on him; they lost. But then what good was being a warrior savant if you lost? Desmond kicked, but missed. Most of the next few tries by both of them were misses, neither of them being able to be quite unpredictable enough to throw the other off.

They separated and Desmond's eyes were past Eagle Vision now. He knew now, from talking with the Ilythians, that this was the sixth sense. It should have been impossible for humans, but if he could see himself in a mirror he'd see his eyes were ice blue, the same as the master he was fighting. There was a weird haze around the master, all the places he could go in the next second. Desmond was seeing the potential of something. He knew the master was looking at him the same way. The trick was, when both fighters could see like this, to make the least likely move and deciding anything had to be done on a synapse rapid level or they'd see it and be able to dodge or block.

Desmond was still deciding what to do when he saw, nearly too late, the master go to move. They dodged right but their shadow moved left and Desmond moved right and forward, throwing out his arm. He clotheslined the master sending them tumbling to the floor, Desmond's arm throbbing from the impact. They flipped to their feet quickly though and Desmond had to guess if he was going to jump or lunge forward. He dodged left just to be on the safe side, but he was there and Desmond jumped back. The master followed, leading with several kicks aimed at his face.

He managed to grab one even as it was cocked back, we went with the leg and used it and his momentum to bowl the master over. Now it was a grappling match and the master was finished. Ilythian forms had few grapples and holds, the point was to never get hit in the first place. So when Desmond got him in a bind he tapped out quickly.

Desmond got to his feet breathing hard, a bit of sweat on his brow. Using the sixth sense and fighting at the same time was still new to him and left him more tired than just normal fighting. The master seemed pleased, even with his loss. The people around them were staring at him in wonder. "You won," someone said.

"Yeah, I tend to do that," Desmond shrugged.

"Who are you?"

"No one terribly important," he said.

"How'd you do that?"

"Oh I'm just that good. Like Altair, I bet he's gonna beat someone too. And excuse me," Desmond beat a quick retreat, not wanting more questions. No one followed. The Ilythians were talking sort of excitedly though and he heard a few proud tones, though he wasn't sure if they were for him, or the master who'd lost.

Desmond went to find another group, far enough away that his fight hadn't been seen. He joined a group and saw it had Rebecca and Shaun in it. When the Ilythians turned to him he just held up a hand, "Don't even. Not in the mood," he said in Ilythian. The Ilythians shrugged, but obeyed.

Desmond watched them fight the humans. Everyone got their ass handed to them, though to his surprise Rebecca lasted the longest. It was like she was covered in oil and the Ilythian she was fighting couldn't seem to get a hit to stick or get her hands on her. As he watched he felt someone come up behind him. He turned to see; it was Cain.

"What do you want?" he asked Cain. The circle ignored them, watching the fighting.

"You have a sixth sense," he said simply, staring at Desmond intently with his wolf blue eyes.

"Wanna make something of it?"

Cain cocked his head at Desmond, "No," he said. "I simply find it interesting. Its almost like you're becoming more proeathan," he smirked and stepped away. Desmond felt himself follow, his feet seeming to move without his consent. "Speaking their language, wearing their clothes, using their weapons," he glanced down at Desmond's wrist. Desmond tugged the sleeve over the thick, black, bracelet he wore down, to hide it. "Covered in their marks," his eyes scanned Desmond's scarred face. "You're as tall as them, can fight like them and now... now you see like them," that made him pleased for some reason.

"This have a point?" Desmond growled.

"Maybe you should rethink your desires, boy," he said.

"And what do you know of my desires?" Desmond asked.

"I think it was something about killing every proeathan? Tell me, does that include your new friends?" he looked over Desmond's shoulder at the Ilythians and nodded in their direction. "Or maybe yourself? You're practically one as it is."

Desmond frowned deeply at him, "I don't want that anymore," he said.

"Oh? Then what do you want?"

Desmond looked away and like his eyes were attached to the back of her head Desmond found Lucy's sole blond hair in the entire room. Cain followed his gaze and Desmond looked away. He couldn't want that, or rather, he didn't want to want it. It was painful. He wouldn't make it uncomfortable by trying to push himself on her, so he was trying to put distance between them, so if she wanted his company she wanted it, and not just thought she did out of pity. Desmond didn't want pity. The idea of her being with him because he couldn't let go of him (not that she'd ever do that, but the thought had crossed his mind) made him feel wretched. So he was just going to let it happen, organically, and try to be the kind of guy she wanted, instead of the kind of guy she was expected to be with.

"Ah," Cain said with understanding. "Good luck with that," he added

Desmond narrowed his eyes at Cain, "What's it to you?"

"I like her," Cain said, "She's a nice girl, and you don't deserve her in the slightest," Desmond glared at him.

"So what, you're buddies now or something?"

"No," Cain said. "But we both can appreciate the company we keep, away from critical, or many, eyes. You see her now, but you didn't see her the past five months. Can barely leave her room, can barely eat in public. The Angel of the Lake is a powerful symbol."

"What is that? No one's told me," Desmond said.

"The first plantation they took, she went in unarmed, and walked right past all the security. When she came out she did so with the children from the seed bank, and the plantation had been taken. She didn't do it herself of course, but rumors popped up, stories started. If you want to believe the common folk she's immortal and cannot be seen by the proeathans, also she has wings and eyes made of blue fire," Desmond laughed at that. "She's a symbol of hope for them, because she really did walk into every proeathan plantation by herself, unarmed, and kill the Overseers."

"Why would they bother her so much though?"

"What would you do if you were in the presence of your savior?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know," Desmond said, "I was sort of under the impression that was me," he said, unimpressed with the entire savior thing as a whole.

Cain chuckled, "But no one will ever know you, will they?"

"That's the hope," Desmond said.

"Then imagine, if you would, if Christians today could go back and meet Jesus. What do you think would happen?" Desmond frowned angrily. "Exactly," Cain said, seeing Desmond understood. "She still doesn't go out where the common people will see her. She's the only blonde in all of Demeter, and she doesn't like to be stared at."

"I can imagine," Desmond frowned. He wished he could change that. But he knew there was nothing he could do.

"So remember that when you try to get what you want, boy," Cain said.

"I'm not going to 'get' anything," he said irritably. "You're right, I don't deserve her. If I want something, I need to earn it."

"Good," Cain said, "Because she's important. More than you can even imagine."

"No, I can," Desmond said. Cain cocked his head to the side. "She's important to me. More than anything. All I've wanted to do was be near her again, talk to her. So trust me, not going to screw this up."

Cain smiled a little, "Good." And then they both looked at someone's yell nearby. "And there he goes," Cain sighed as they both watched Altair launch himself to his feet and demand a rematch of the Ilythian who'd beat him. "Never changes," Cain's voice was... fond. Desmond looked at him for a few seconds before going over to Altair's group so he didn't kill the Ilythian master by accident.


End file.
